


Just around the U-bend

by Pronunciation_Hermy_One, SAYS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16470971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pronunciation_Hermy_One/pseuds/Pronunciation_Hermy_One, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAYS/pseuds/SAYS
Summary: For Judy - Love in the after-life





	Just around the U-bend

**Author's Note:**

> Judy! It was SUCH a treat (not a trick!) to have the opportunity to write for you, my friend! Participating in these exchanges again is giving me the opportunity to stretch my writing... fingers? wings? And I so appreciate the open flexibility of your requests. I sincerely hope you enjoy this and was so excited to write it for you. Happy Halloween, beautiful!

Myrtle was love sick... again. Though, to be fair, “again” was really a bit heavy handed, Peeves conceded as he tossed another flaming dung bomb at Fitch’s office door and knocked over a coat of arms as he disappeared back into her bathroom. Twice hardly counted as an overabundance of feelings. 

Nevertheless, her wallowing had reached a new low and Peeves had tired of it. 

“Oh, Myyyyyyrrrrrrtttllllllle,” he screeched, crashing through the stalls one by one until he came to a halt face to face... or rather, spectacled specter to spectacled specter, with Myrtle. He chortled, tossing the bifocals he’d stolen from a Hufflepuff second year through Myrtle and then turning somersaults in the air as they landed with a splash in the toilet below. 

“Leave me be, Peeves!” Myrtle was moping. 

“Filch is coming,” he cackled merrily, spinning around and around like a top in the air. “Filchy-poo will think it’s you!” 

Peeves took off at top speed, knowing she would follow him. 

“Stop sending people to my toilet!” Myrtle was wailing as they zipped through the halls, following him at break-neck speed. They zoomed through a gaggle of Slytherin students as Filch upturned their books on his way through. 

“I won’t forgive you this time, Peeves.” Myrtle was shouting as she chased along in his wake. “I mean it! You won’t be welcome in my toilet!”

“Myrtle, Myrtle, like a turtle, hiding in your stall!” His taunts echoed through the corridor as he turned left, closely followed by the current object of his attention. 

“It IS my stall,” she whinged as they exploded through Professor Binn’s chalkboard and back into the hall. But, Peeves paid her no mind. 

“Hide away little lamb, Peeves has got a plan!” And as he found himself in the Ravenclaw common room, Peeves threw an apple through Helena and dove out the window. 

“I am NOT a turtle or a lamb,” Myrtle cried, sobbing as she rounded the corner. She stopped instantly, realizing where she was. 

“Oh.”

Helena stared at Myrtle before looking down at the apple Peeves had chucked through her chest, now rolling toward the fireplace. 

“No, I dare say you are neither,” Helena spoke softly, tilting her head to the side. 

“Neither?” Myrtle stammered. Could you faint when you were a ghost? Myrtle hadn’t the slightest idea, but she was pretty sure she would find out soon. 

“Correct.”

Myrtle blinked and stared at the floor beneath Helena’s floating feet. 

“Correct?”

“Has someone placed a befuddlement charm upon you?” Helena inquired. 

“Befudd-“ Myrtle caught herself, trying to breathe deeply as she calmed her rapidly beating... what was it, anyway? She didn’t have a heart any longer to speak of. Nor was there breath within her to calm. But, there you have it: something was beating, and loudly. 

“Are you in need of assistance?” 

Surely Helena was mocking her. 

“Are you lost?”

But, it was awfully hard to focus, standing so closely to her. Helena was beautiful. And Peeves knew very well Myrtle was avoiding her. 

“No.” Myrtle sniffed and turned to leave. The U-bend sounded appealing, far from Peeves and the sounds of students, merriment and... her. 

“You are always sad.” Helena spoke plainly, as if commenting on the weather. 

“Not always,” Myrtle mumbled tartly, drifting toward the wall. 

“Well then, you may see me again if you are not weeping. I give you permission. You would be less homely then, perhaps.”

With a half-heartedly stifled wail, Myrtle propelled herself headlong through the wall, heading straight for the safety of her bathroom. 

Homely. Sad. Weeping. 

Mad. 

Myrtle was mad. Myrtle was mad at Peeves. 

Except, it wasn’t Peeve’s fault she was homely. 

Back to sad. 

“Oh, woe is me!” Myrtle screeched as she fled through the corridor. 

“Dungbombs at my door!” Argus bellowed after her in response, waving his fist in the air as she passed. 

She cried louder and sank into the depths of the toilet. 

It was at least a week before Myrtle had occasion to leave her post again, and it was perhaps only sheer boredom of the sound of her own tears that motivated her to peek out from the depths of her plumbing. Whatever the motivation had been, the result was the same: Myrtle met a barefoot, first year Ravenclaw with vegetables hanging from her ears, spinning around in circles with her fingertips outstretched and her eyes tightly closed. 

“You’re in my bathroom,” Myrtle interjected flatly. 

The girl stopped and stared at her, wobbling to and fro. 

“You’re a ghost.”

Myrtle pursed her lips. “Bad things are happening here at Hogwarts. You shouldn’t be alone. I was alone when I died, right here in this bathroom.”

The girl tilted her head to and fro, squinting and opening her eyes alternatingly. “Where is your blood?”

Myrtle scoffed and flew out of her stall, skidding to a halt in front of the girl. “I haven’t any blood; thank you for reminding me! I’m a ghost! You’re in my bathroom!”

“I’m Luna,” the girl said, extending her hand. “I was sorted into Ravenclaw.”

Myrtle stared at the extended hand, before glancing back to her face. “I can’t shake your hand!”

“Oh yes,” the girl nodded, lowering her arm back to her side. “The aquavirius maggots must be particularly strong in here. I’ve been finding all of the toilets in Hogwarts and attempting to clear them. It will make for a better learning environment, but I’m sure you know that.”

Luna began to spin again, and Myrtle simply stared at her. 

“Why are you here?”

Luna paused. “I’m clearing the aquavirius maggots. Is that what killed you here in the bathroom?”

It was Myrtle’s turn to pause. “I don’t think so. I was here crying, and then... I just died.”

“Hmmm,” Luna mused aloud. “No, that doesn’t sound like aquavirius maggots. They don’t like crying.”

“No one likes crying,” Myrtle sniffed. 

Luna shrugged. “I think crying can be good for you.” She rocked back and forth on the heels of her feet, drawing Myrtle’s attention back to them again. 

“Where are your shoes? You’ll catch your death of cold on these floors without them! Or, that’s what my mum used to say, at least.”

“Is that how you died? Were you crying barefoot?” Luna brought a hand to her chin, contemplating Myrtle closely. “No, you’re wearing your shoes. That can’t be.”

Myrtle was silent again, contemplating the young girl. “You are a Ravenclaw?”

Luna nodded and Myrtle wondered how low the bar for entrance must have fallen since she was young. 

“Oh! That’s why I’m here!”

“Because you’re a Ravenclaw? Did they send you to mock me?” Myrtle lay down in the air on her side, inspecting Luna closely. 

“No, no,” Luna whispered earnestly. “I would never mock you. The Grey Lady was looking for you. She asked if you were going to the Deathday Party this evening. She would like to see you.” 

Myrtle froze. 

“She wants to see... me?”

“Well,” Luna said, twisting her bottom lip between her teeth. “I think so. She said to the portrait of her mother in our common room that she was wondering if the girl who died in the toilet will be there.”

“What else did she say?” Myrtle whinged, smoothing her hair, eyes wide and eager. 

“Well, that was it, honestly. But, are there other girls who have died in Hogwarts toilets and come back as ghosts? Is this a common occurrence here?” 

“Only me,” Myrtle simpered. “I don’t get many visitors, and it’s awfully lonely,” she sniffed. “I don’t know why she’d want to see me.”

“I’ve liked seeing you,” Luna smiled.

“You have?” Myrtle whimpered unconvinced, but continued when Luna nodded sincerely. 

“No one liked me when I was alive either,” she whimpered, turning upside down as she floated above Luna’s head. 

“I died as they laughed at me. It was why I came here to hide.”

“You came to die?”

“No, that was such an unfortunate, or fortunate, side effect. I had finally revealed my...” 

“Oh, did you reveal your dabberblimp?” Luna interrupted joyously. 

“My... my what? Never mind,” Myrtle trailed off. 

“Oh I just thought perhaps that was why you spent time here in the toilet. I had a dabberblimp for a time, but then he left me. Oh, please do continue your story. I won’t interrupt again.”

Myrtle looked at her skeptically. “You’ll only laugh at me.”

Luna shook her head solemnly. 

“Very well then. I had finally revealed my affections for a classmate. Then she laughed at me. They all did. So I ran in here to hide. I was so ashamed and they were so mean to homely, pimply Myrtle and her ugly glasses!”

Myrtle paused, unused to such a rapt audience, but Luna was still focused on her every word, no trace of insincerity in her eyes. 

“Well, as I said before, I came in here to hide. And then I died. She found me. Olive. She was the one. It’s a fine line between love and hate, you know. I loved her, and then she laughed at me, and then I died... And then, I hated her.”

Luna raised her hand, nodding slowly, a sad look in her eyes. 

“Yes?”

“What have you been doing since you died? Just... hating?”

“Crying, mostly. I haunted her, Olive, until the ministry made me stop,” she pouted. “So, then I came back here to Hogwarts. And I’m as unloved and ignored now in death as I was in life!” She wailed dramatically, clutching a hand to her forehead. 

“Go now. I must prepare for this evening’s festivities.” Myrtle stared into the mirror, smoothing her pigtails and pursing her lips. Miserable? Solemn? Bored? She needed a look for this evening. 

Luna blinked as she walked toward the door. “I won’t ignore you.”

Myrtle believed her. 

And so, as she floated into the 500th anniversary of Nicholas’ Death Day Party, Myrtle felt distinctly… mope-less. Or, at least as if her list of things to moan about had diminished in a way that made her feel lighter than she had in nearly 60 years. 

Smoothing her hair one last time, she straightened up and floated into the room, mustering all of the solemn pride she contained in what she hoped was a dignified and impressive manner. 

Myrtle scanned the room, trying not to appear too desperate. Helena wanted her there. The young Luna girl, though odd, was, perhaps the first friend she may have made in the last six decades. Today was perhaps the best day of her life and death. 

She froze. Helena stood to her left next to the fireplace. Myrtle felt a blush creeping over her pallid complexion. In fact, she realized as she looked in the mirror, she was distinctly and increasingly red. Myrtle paused, tilting her head to the side as she stared at her own increasingly red reflection. 

“Oh! Sorry!”

She furrowed her brow as a young man, ah yes, the best friend of Harry Potter stumbled through her. That explained the red. 

“Hello, Harry,” she called absent-mindedly as she passed them, continuing toward Helena. 

Myrtle cleared her throat to speak, but before she could utter a word, Helena had spoken. 

“You are not weeping.”

Myrtle wondered if Harry’s friend were about to tumble through her again as she felt her cheeks grow warm and her stomach flip, but was pleased to see him across the room. 

“Just as I suspected,” Helena smiled.

“Less homely?” Myrtle ducked her head, embarrassed.

“Indeed,” Helena nodded. “It won’t serve us as Ravenclaws to wander about dripping with emotions and spilling them into every walk way.”

Myrtle blinked. “I’d never thought of it like that. I just feel, and so I do.”

“One ought to think, and therefore be,” Helena chided, leaving Myrtle feeling distinctly displeasing. 

“You look lovely today,” she responded, steeling her nerves once again. And that little voice in the back of her mind spoke up loudly again “Homely Myrtle and her dripping emotions.”

“Shut it,” she growled. 

“Excuse me?” Helena blinked. 

“No! Not you. I’m sorry. I…” she blinked rapidly, her eyes watering behind her glasses. At this rate, Helena would leave any moment and her chance would be gone.

“You look very nice this evening.” Myrtle closed her eyes, waiting to see if her intended compliment had hit or missed its intended mark.

Helena was staring at her with a peculiar look . “You,” she paused and Myrtle wanted to die again on the spot. “You are, as I supposed, less homely when you are not crying. It is preferable to represent my esteemed house of Ravenclaw without all of the dramatics.”

“I—“ Myrtle started. She was losing her chance, Helena was clearly losing interest in her. 

“I was told that you wanted to see me here tonight,” she ventured boldly. 

“Ah yes, said Helena, patting her arm. We are often underrepresented, Ravenclaw. You are one of our few options, and I appreciate you doing your duty and being here.”

And there it was. It was over. Myrtle blinked back what would have been tears as another voice whispered in her ear “Laugh at you, Myrtle, laugh they all do! Hermione Granger can’t stand you!”

Helena turned sharply, staring at Peeves. “Granger?” She peered around the room. “I’ve heard she is quite intelligent. It’s a pity the hat didn’t give her to our esteemed house of Ravenclaw. We could use a higher caliber student,” she miffed. “We haven’t had many worthy of the house in 100 years.”

“See stupid Myrtle?” Peeves cackled as he flipped around and around. “See what they do? The Grey Lady doesn’t want you!”

Myrtle gasped, the once light feeling that had bolstered her through the remainder of the day into the evening now felt like ice water in her stomach, down to her toes. 

“On All Hallows Eve you listen to Peeeves,” he squealed, pelting Myrtle with peanuts as she burst into tears, racing for the nearest entrance back to her bathroom. “Listen to Peeves, he won’t steer you wrong, she couldn’t love you, Myrtle ding-dong!”

Myrtle escaped once more into her favorite pipe, a wail echoing behind her as she descended into its depths. Peeves was right, she sobbed aloud, her moans of despair resonating through the halls as the sound carried through the pipes and reverberated throughout the castle. 

“She’s a very strange girl,” The Grey Lady murmured as she wandered past Peeves again. 

He smiled and tossed a bowl of punch at her head. Myrtle was strange, but she was his favorite resident at Hogwarts, and he’d make sure no one else ever held her attention the way he did. 

Peeves as lovesick… and there was no “before” or “again” for him… there was only Myrtle .


End file.
